Captain Aldeth Sweetling sighed as she walked back to her house, her watch over for the night. It was hard to believe that it had only been six days since the adventurers had come from Northport. Six days and six nights, now.

Not even a tenday. Compared to the two months before, it was like the flash of a wizard’s fireball, over in an instant. The change was like night and day.

For two months, they had battled with fear and loss, as the bloody red moon hung in the sky, perpetually full, and mocking them with its grim light. For two months, their sleep had been broken by the constant howling of wolves. For two months, they had looked up at that baleful moon and wondered if this night was going to be their last.

Then, the adventurers had shown up, the first people to come to the town since the trouble began. Even better, they had been sent by the temple in Northport to help! None of the villagers cared that two of them were demonkin and another was a massive white wolf, or the last was clearly more than human. More than human. Heh.

Twiceborn were rare in the world. Once, maybe twice, in a generation, the gods would bring a soul from another world to this one. Most people lived their entire lives without ever hearing of one, much less seeing one. Or, if they did see one, they didn’t know it, because the Twiceborn was keeping a low profile.

And, usually, they needed to keep a low profile. Because Twiceborn were rare, that meant that they were valuable, especially to the ones who peddled in flesh and procured rare specimens for wealthy buyers. The idea of having a twiceborn as a slave was enticing to many. Everyone knew that they could become far more powerful than ordinary beings, after all.

Which, of course, was why the gods took a personal stake in the lives of Twiceborn. A Twiceborn could become a great weapon to a god against their rivals, but only if they were allowed to grow into their power. Of course, if a worshipper of a rival god killed (or worse, sacrificed) the Twiceborn, then the shift in power could be extreme. That meant they needed to be protected when they were younger, and the best protection was anonymity.

The little Aurilite hadn’t seemed to learn that lesson. But then, she was traveling with a winter wolf, a creature most commonly thought of as a monster, not a companion. And she also had those black wings of hers. The Captain smiled. She’d be lying if she said that the girl was anything less than extremely noticeable.

Anonymity was not a luxury the girl had, so she had clearly gone the other way, seeking security by making herself the center of attention, so that no one could try and attack her from the shadows. The gods had certainly seen fit to place her in an appropriate location for her goddess. The Northlands, and especially the parts north of the Worldspine Mountains, were places where none would dare offend the Cold Goddess.

And now she was in the Moonwood, fighting the werewolves. Definitely not hiding away and attempting to avoid notice. Thanks to her and her friends, they’d had five nights without an attack. Five nights where the militia not on watch could actually sleep.

She took a breath as she opened her door, and shut it behind her. Five nights of peace. She’d almost forgotten what it was like. Yawning, she moved to her chair, settling in like she had for the last two months. She’d take a nap in her armor, and be ready, just in case. The village counted on her blade if things got bad, after all.

Just a nap…

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Captain! CAPTAIN! WAKE UP!”

Sweetling jerked awake, one hand already reaching for the hilt of her silver sword. She was already on her feet, with blade drawn by the time the speaker had finished shouting, her muscles responding before her brain had even started working. Instincts honed by years of training already had her to the door before she realized that something was off.

There were no sounds of combat. She didn’t hear any screams of frightened villagers, either. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she turned to look up at young Bessie Tanner. The ranger had been banging on her door, but she wasn’t looking at her. She was looking up at the sky, the pale moonlight shining down on her face.

Pale moonlight?

Dumbly, Sweetling stepped out into the roadway, finally understanding what was wrong. Or, rather, what wasn’t wrong. The sanguine red that had bathed the town every night for more than two months was gone! The sky was black, and the silver light from the waxing moon was shining down!

The guard captain walked out into the middle of the road. The Blood Moon was gone! It was really gone! No, she didn’t have time for that right now! Looking back to Bessie, she said, “Make sure that the watch isn’t too busy gawking at the moon to see if any wolves come after us.” When the woman didn’t respond she smacked her shoulder. “Get a move on!”

As Bessie ran off to check on the guards on duty, Celaena ran up to Sweetling, the druid’s eyes wild with excitement. “Captain, good. The Blood Moon has set. I felt a pulse of magic from the northeast, where the Shrine is. Our adventurers have done it!”

Sweetling nodded slowly. “Yes, they’ve taken down the Blood Moon, Celaena, but that doesn’t mean the threat is finished.” The druid looked at her, confused. “You know your plants, Cel, but war is not like that. The Shrine was just one of the places we know the Malarites were hiding. I doubt all of them have been killed. We can’t let our guard down, yet.”

The druid sighed. “You’re right, of course. I guess we’ll have to rely on our heroes a little longer.”

Sweetling laughed. “A pair of demonkin, a wolf, and an Aurelite? If they are heroes, then Brandobaris, god of adventurers and tricksters must be having a laugh at the other gods’ expense!”